


Love Sick (or sick of love)

by balancingprecariouslyontheedge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Poor thing, Sick Zayn, more old fics, sick fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balancingprecariouslyontheedge/pseuds/balancingprecariouslyontheedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*previously on tumblr*</p><p>Harry's sick. The thing is, Zayn kinda is too. Chaos and cuddles ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Sick (or sick of love)

**Author's Note:**

> Based of yet another old anon prompt. It's cute, now go read:-)

Zayn woke up at 3:00 A.M to throw up the dinner he hardly ate.

The prospect of dinner had seemed disgusting last night, even if dinner itself had seemed delicious. Harry’s special homemade ravioli, even though Harry himself had barely eaten, claiming he had a headache and was going to crash early.  
The members of One Direction had yesterday and the next week and a half off of tour, which they had been eagerly awaiting ever since Simon had told them.  
It wasn’t like they didn’t love their job. No, they absolutely adored their job. But sometimes, the boyfriends wanted the freedom to hug, kiss, and generally be a proper couple with each other with out the prying, judging eyes of paparazzi, fans, and management.  
Zayn suspected he’d caught something from a few coughing, sniffling fans he’d run into earlier at the pharmacy. The only person who had been with him was Harry. Harry had been acting a bit off last night too, coughing everything few minutes and sniffling a lot.

Wiping his mouth while flushing the toilet, Zayn pulled himself out of his thoughts and shakily stood up, grasping the wall for support. He stumbled toward the sink and gripped the sides of the large, porcelain bowl until his knuckle turned white in order to steady himself. Sparing a quick glance at the mirror, Zayn miserably noticed the purple marks under his eyes and pale, clammy appearance of his slightly red face. He brushed his teeth in order to get the horrible taste of tossed ravioli out of his mouth and began to make his way back to the huge bed which he shared with his lovers. Evidently, the Bradford boy had moved to fast because his stomach began to do thing where it churned and did backflips causing the food to go back the way it came. Zayn stood still for a moment, eyes closed as slowly the war in his stomach degraded to an amateur food fight. Breathing in deeply, he continued to grope around in the dark room until he walked into the bed, wincing as the pain signals traveled up to his head, worsening the small head ache that had been pushed to the back of his mind up until now.  
After he had clambered back into the bed, Zayn buried his face into his pillow, sighing contentedly as it’s coolness brought down his abnormally high body temperature.  
Harry shifted, turning over in his spot on the left side of Zayn. He sleepily pulled the smaller boy closer.  
“You okay Zee?” Harry asked tiredly, his voice slightly scratchy and his body slightly warm. A frown appeared on Zayn’s face as he murmured, “Yeah, just went for a wee.” He hated lying, but he wasn’t going to have the younger boy fawn over him if he was feeling ill too. I’ll see what the situation is when the sun comes up, Zayn told himself. Then he succumbed to a fitful sleep.

Seven hours later, in which he had only gotten up to puke twice, Zayn’s weary eyes opened again. Patting around the enormous bed, he realized that all the boys had already woken up and gone downstairs. While slowly sitting up, Zayn felt a sudden rush of fatigue overtake his body, instantly pulling him back down onto the plush bed. He attempted to take a deep breath, but found that he couldn’t. Zayn felt as if his airways were closing up slightly, and took small breaths until he was able to get his breathing under control. A sharp pain erupted in his the center of his chest, causing him to double over agony.  
“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his chest. After a few agonizingly long minutes, the pain slightly subsided. It wasn’t much relief, but it was enough for him to be able to sluggishly climb out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom.  
After Zayn had gotten changed and looked somewhat decent, he slowly dragged his feet downstairs, where he nearly walked into a flustered looking Liam.  
“Morning, Li,” he whispered. Zayn had intended to be louder but his throat suddenly felt like he’d swallowed broken glass shards, leaving his throat stripped of all its precious muscle tissue. His boyfriend glared at him.  
“I don’t have time to deal with your shit, Zayn. None of us do. Harry’s poorly and the least you could do is help take care of him.” Shoving a bowl of steaming hot soup at him, Liam instructed, “Go take this to him.” Wincing as the hot soup burned his already warm hands, Zayn turned around as fast as he could. He really didn’t want Liam to be mad at him, and Zayn supposed he could forge through the day.  
Stepping into the living room, Zayn searched for a few moments before letting his gaze fall upon what looked like a long pile of bundled up blankets. Looking closer, he saw a massive pile of curly chestnut hair peeking out from the green fuzzy blankets. Zayn gave a harsh throaty cough and, swallowing back the disgusting mucus building up in his mouth, he walked over to his sick boyfriend a crouched. A look of grimace passed over his face as an ache in his calf muscles began to grab hold of his leg.  
“Harreh?” He croaked out softly, prickle traveling through his esophagus. The bundle of blanket shift until the slightly pale, clammy face of his boyfriend peered through. Placing the soup on the table beside the couch, Zayn pressed a gentle hand to Harry’s forehead. The sheer amount of heat radiating from his boyfriend’s forehead shocked him, until he realized that a lot of the heat might have been coming from. A shiver wracked through Zayn’s body, eliminating any thought of him being overheated.  
“How’re you feeling?” he asked softly. Harry pouted.  
“Like poo.” He answered shakily, and a Zayn smiled a bit. Harry sniffled.  
“You haven’t been throwing up, have you?” Zayn questioned worriedly. He was answered with a small shake of a head.  
“That’s good. You need to get some food in your system,” Zayn declared, but his voice cracked halfway through the sentence. A small coughing fit shook his body and Harry looked at him with concerned green eyes.  
“Are you feeling alright? You’re not poorly too, are you?” Harry asked, panicking that it might have been him who got his boyfriend under the weather.  
“No, I’m fine, Haz. Don’t worry. Now, Liam made you soup.” Harry looked as if he didn’t believe him at all. He sneezed, and Zayn was about to say 'bless you’ before the pain in his chest suddenly made a reappearance. He grasped his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, as he had done earlier, until the pain degraded from an ax stabbing him to a pocket knife.  
“Zee, I don’t–”  
“I’m just a bit tired. Nothing, really. Now eat your soup.”  
“Liam’s cooking doesn’t count as food.” Harry stated, slowly sitting up. Zayn grinned and gave a small chuckle. He picked up the bowl and was about to set it on Harry’s lap when a familiar Irish accent broke in.  
“Look who finally decided to give a damn that Harry’s sick,” Niall was holding a bowl with cold water and a rag, glaring at Zayn.  
“Well I’m glad you finally have your priorities sorted,” he sneered, stepping closer. A very confused Zayn responded with a scratchy, “What do you mean?” Niall looked at him incredulously, before setting the basin of water down and placing a hand on his hip.  
“Instead of sleeping the fucking day away, you finally realized that maybe you fucking boyfriend is more important that you goddamn beauty sleep!” Niall’s voice raised towards the end, and Zayn felt a pang of hurt travel through him, hurting him more than the ache in his muscles or the pain in his chest. Harry looked a bit angry.  
“Ni, I think Zayn’s feeling a bit i–”  
“Be quiet, Haz. You don’t want to mess up your throat any more.” Niall’s voice instantly became more soft and gentle as he spoke to their youngest lover. Harry looked pained, but he closed his mouth. The Irish boy turned to Zayn and growled, “Since you obviously aren’t helping out here, go help Lou or something.” As if on cue, Louis walked.  
“Hazza, babes, how are y…” Louis trailed off as he glanced at Zayn then at Niall.  
“Look who finally came down,” Niall said haughtily, and that was all the encouragement the oldest boy needed to completely ignore the Pakistani boy. Louis knelt down in front of Harry, Niall following the suite. They both proceeded to fawn over him, brushing off the hurt boy standing behind them.  
Zayn’s jello-like mind was still struggling to process what just went down. The second the sick boy realized that he was no longer wanted, he walked to the kitchen with his heavy head hanging.  
That’s pretty much how the rest of the morning and a good part afternoon passed by. Zayn was constantly either ignored or insulted by his boyfriends at every attempt he made to help out with Harry. The hurt was rapidly piling up inside of him, worsening the excruciating pain that the painful, stabbing sensation in his chest brought on. Zayn’s airways had seemed to be getting tighter and tighter and at this point, the poor lad was struggling to breath. All of his muscles were aching and he seemed to be utterly exhausted even though he hadn’t really moved much that day. Thick, harsh, deep cough wracked through his body all day, and when he’d felt the urge to hurl, nothing had come up besides blood mixed in with a sickeningly green mucus. Right now, Zayn wanted nothing more than to lie down and cuddle with his four boyfriend. But that wasn’t going to happen because Niall, Louis, and Liam were all giving him a cold shoulder and caring for Harry, who had a fever that left him a miserable, sick mess of limbs and blankets on the couch.  
Sitting on one of the spinning bar stools in the kitchen, Zayn swallowed for the millionth time, trying to soothe the burning in hjs throat. went it didn’t work, he finally decided to check and see if they had any cough drops that might help. He shakily stood up, wincing as his aching legs wobbled under his weight. Zayn stumbled to the cabinet and pulled it open. Grasping the bag labeled cough drops, he reached in it and pulled one out. It also happened to be the last one left.  
Zayn just stared at it, before thinking that Harry wouldn’t need it because he hadn’t been coughing. He was just about to open it when Louis walked in the kitchen. He eyed Zayn, then the cough drop in his hand.  
“I’ll take that,” Louis stated, snatching the medication of his boyfriend’s hand.  
“Harry has a bit of a tickle in his throat. This’ll make sure it won’t get worse.” Louis explained testily, twirling the cough drop in his hand. When Zayn didn’t answer, he became even more infuriated with his boyfriend.  
“Why are you not fucking answering? What are you playing at?” They were nose to nose now, and Zayn wanted to answer so bad but he couldn’t because his throat was completely clogged up and he was having trouble breathing.  
“I..” Zayn stuttered out painfully. Louis glared at him before turning on his heel and stalking off. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Since your obviously not any help here, make yourself useful and go the pharmacy to get medicine for Haz.” With that, Louis left, leaving a devastated Zayn feeling more sick and alone than ever.  
After just staring at the spot Louis had stood in for about two minutes, Zayn let out a sad, breathy sigh that didn’t help his burning throat or his clogged airways. Then, pulling himself together, he walked over to one of the drawers and groped around for his car keys. Once he found them, Zayn left the house, shivering violently. That was strange, considering it wasn’t the least bit cold outside.  
Zayn climbed into his Range Rover, still trembling as he fumbled with his keys, trying to turn his car on. It took much longer than it should’ve because he felt like absolute shit right then. Fatigue gripped his body and dragged his weary, aching limbs down. Pain sprouted in his abdomen, and that combined with his chest made his vision all blurry. The sick boy felt as if someone had blowtorched his throat because it was burning so fucking much and breathing was becoming harder by the second and how the hell had he already driven out of their neighborhood?  
Focus he thought determinedly.  
But even focusing was becoming a hard task because his mind felt like pudding and his reactions were becoming was to slow. Rapid splashing noises broke Zayn away from his tiring thoughts, and he blinked rapidly before noticing that it had started raining. Hard.  
Now, the only thoughts running through his head were shitshitshitshitshit, almost in time with the steady thrum of the rain beating down on the windshield.  
Zayn slowly stopped at a light and took a deep breath. Which promptly led him to break into a fit of coughing that made him swear one of his lungs were going to come up. A loud honk told him that the light had turned green a and he was holding up traffic. Still hacking and coughing, Zayn kept driving.  
Zayn honestly didn’t really remember much of what happened next.  
The screeching sound of tires on pavement rang out, fueling his pounding headache. Another car swerved around the corner and spun out of control, spinning closer to his own car. Zayn sluggish mind couldn’t process what was happening until it was already to late.  
The other car spun straight into his Range Rover, smashing his windshield into a billion pieces and shoving them both into the median. The ear piercing sound of metal on metal echoed in his ears and ricocheted around Zayn’s brain. Glass was littered on the seats and floor of his upside down car as rain pattered down, soaking everything inside.  
There was just so much mind numbing pain and agony. Blood was dripping down his temples and into his eye, blurring Zayn’s already shaky vision. The odd part was, he couldn’t feel any of it. As a matter a fact, Zayn couldn’t feel much of anything. Or taste whatever wet substance was in his mouth. It was either blood, puke, or both. Probably both. The sharp stench of blood and smoke only briefly entered his nose, before suddenly, Zayn couldn’t smell anymore. And his hearing was gone, too. The only sense he had left was his sight, and it was like he was looking at everything from underwater.  
Deep down in the back of his muddled mind, Zayn knew that this was all actual pretty bad, but he just couldn’t really be bothered to care. Zayn was just so damn tired. So fucking exhausted and now sleep was finally ready to claim him. The last he remembered were red flashing lights and distant, panicky voices before he fell into sleep’s welcoming arms.

“Hello?” Louis picked up the phone, rubbing his drooping eyelids tiredly.  
“Is this Mr. Tomlinson?” a female voice asked, making the 21 year old a bit cautious.  
“Um… yes?” He answered. The voice on the other end kept speaking.  
“I’m calling from Royal London Hospital. You are affiliated with Mr. Zayn Malik, yes?” Those words made Louis blood run cold and he nearly dropped the phone.  
“Yes. Yes, why are you calling?” His voice was panicked as dozens of different scenarios ran through his mind. The lady sighed.  
“I’m afraid Mr. Malik was involved in a rather serious car accident. On top of that, he was extremely ill. We haven’t got a proper diagnosis of what he has but–” The phone fell to the floor with a resounding 'clang,’ Louis’s hand shaped in a circle as if he was still holding the landline. His mouth was shaped in an 'o’ as he tried to get the fact that his boyfriend was in the hospital through his head. He stared straight ahead, many different emotions filling up his head. Guilt, he found, was the most prominent.  
A minute later, he shouted, “BOYS! GET YOUR ASSES IN THE CAR!” The panic was evident in Louis’s voice as he raced towards the door, stopping only to grab his phone and wallet.  
Louis frantically jabbed his keys into the slot and clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Liam, Niall, and Harry appeared, running over and climbing into the car. Harry was noticeably more bundled up that the other boys, but his cold had worn down a good deal with all his boyfriend mother-henning. His sore throat was still there, though it wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier.  
The moment Liam pulled the passenger door shut, Louis pulled out of their driveway and stepped on the gas.  
“Lou, slow down!” Liam chided, gripping the sides of the passenger seat. The other boy just mumbled a few choice curse words before frustratedly stopping a the light.  
“Boo, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, his voice slightly scratchy. “Where are we going?”  
“This all my fault. I’m so fucking stupid,” he hissed, speeding up the second the light turned green. His boyfriends were a bit nervous now.  
“Louis, what’s going on?” Niall asked quietly.  
“Zayn. I was such an arsehole to him and he still listened when I practically kicked him out of the house to get medicine for Haz. It was raining like hell and he got into a really fucking bad accident. I don’t even know the exact details. And on top of all that, he was extremely sick. The doctors haven’t even diagnosed it yet.” Tears were brimming in all of their eyes, and a few slipped down Liam’s face as he inquired, “How do you know all this?”  
“Someone from Royal London Hospital rang me. I didn’t even hear everything. I kind of… dropped the phone.” Louis said the last part a bit sheepishly, but the reality of the entire situation was just now crashing down on everyone. Niall buried his face in his hands. Harry choked back a sob. Liam stared at his lap in disgust, tears streaming down his face like rivers.  
“This isn’t all your fault, Lou,” Liam whispered. “It’s mine, too. I yelled at him, and when he kind of tried to tell me he was ill, I told him I didn’t want to deal with his shit. I’m a goddamn idiot,” He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.  
“If we’re all talking about how bitchy we were, I can say that I was a prick. I called him lazy and was just an all around ass to him. And he was sick. But he took our shit and didn’t saying anything.” Harry, who had been quiet for a while, decided to speak up.  
“I knew something was off. I asked Zayn if he was feeling poorly and he said no. He took care of me when it should have been the other way around. I should’ve said something! I should’ve–” Niall placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.  
“You did better than the rest of us, Haz. It’s not your fault.” Harry just buried his face in the crook of his Irish boyfriend’s.  
Five minutes later, Louis was parking at Royal London Hospital.(It should’ve taken ten minutes, but no one questioned) Louis had barely pulled the keys out of the ignition when all of his boyfriends jumped out of the car and raced towards the huge building. He quickly followed the suit.  
The gray haired receptionist apparently didn’t recognize them at first.  
“We need to see Zayn Malik,” Niall declared. The lady smacked her gum and looked at them dully.  
“Are you friends or family of Mr. Malik?” she asked in a monotone. Louis marched straight up to her and placed his hands on the desk.  
“I’m Louis Tomlinson. With Niall Horan, Harry Styles, and Liam Payne. Ring any bells?” He sneered, thought there was a panicky undertone in his voice. The woman still didn’t recognize them until a plump female nurse with red dyed hair came in.  
“Why, aren’t you lads from that boy band? Oh dear, um, One Direction, right?” When Liam nodded, the woman smiled in a grandmotherly way.  
“My granddaughter absolutely adores you boys. She’s seeing your concert next week. But aren't there supposed to be five of you?" Realization dawned on the receptionist’s face and she rapidly typed on her computer.  
"Mr. Malik is currently in surgery. He will be transported to an Intensive Care Unit right after. Until then, you can wait in the waiting room upstairs that’s down the hall from ICU B. Nurse Candace will show you where to go.” The plump woman with the Directioner granddaughter, nurse Candance, beckoned for them to follow her.  
“Thank you, ma'am. For mentioning the band. We might’ve been stuck there for a while if it wasn’t for you,” Liam broke in. Nurse Candace shook her head, still smiling.  
“It’s not problem, sweetheart. You are my granddaughter’s favorite band, and tickets for your concert were the best Christmas present in the whole world, according to her.” The nurse smiled fondly, before stopping.  
“Here’s the waiting room, darlings. Your friend ought to be out in maybe two or three hours. I’m sure a doctor will come and update you before then. I do hope he feels better.” The boys all mumbled their thank yous, and flashed her grateful smiles.  
“Wait,” Harry called as she began to walk back down the hall. He grabbed a piece to hospital stationary and wrote a quick note.  
“What’s your granddaughter’s name?” Niall asked, catching on to the idea.  
“Amelia,” Candace responded, and soon she had four signed notes from each of the boys for her granddaughter in her hand.  
“Thank you,” she murmured, stunned by the kind gesture.  
“When Zayn’s out of surgery, if he can, maybe he could write one too.” Louis spoke, and Candace pressed a maternal kiss to kiss cheek before leaving.  
“Thank you boys!” She called. Louis rubbed the lipstick off his face, getting snickers from his boyfriends.  
“Oi, shut it you lot. We’re here for Zayn, remember?” The once playful mood instantly turned somber as they remembered their hurt boyfriend. Plopping down heavily in the hard waiting room chairs, the boys pulled the chairs closer and held onto each other for support.  
The first one to break was Harry. The reality of the situation had him reduced to tears. Zayn could be dying in there, for all he knew. Liam pulled him into his chest, tears rapidly falling down his face too. The fact that Liam was crying had Niall falling apart too. Louis wrapped his arms around all of them as a final attempt to stop the tears from coming. It didn’t work.  
The group attracted many strange looks as they cried, sprawled all over each other. A man with a white coat and white hair stepped in.  
“Anyone here for Mr. Zayn Malik?” he called, his voice breaking the depressing silence that had been hanging over everyone, save the few sobs and cries of Zayn’s boyfriends. The boys scrambled to get up, wiping their puffy, red eyes.  
“We’re here for Zayn.” Liam declared and the doctor led him down the hallway before stopping at a room marked 'ICU B.’ The doctor pushed his glasses further up his nose and cleared his throat.  
“I’m Dr. Daniel Sanders,” he started holding out a hand for each of the boys to shake. “I am the doctor for Mr. Malik’s case. Mr. Malik arrived here after a severe car accident, and there was quite a bit of shrapnel and debris in various deep cuts of his, so we had to perform surgery. His left foot was also dislocated, so we’ve set that properly. But on top of that, Mr. Malik had a rare mix of Viral and Bacterial pneumonia. He was quite sick when he was brought here, so it will take at least a week for him to be out and about. Even then, he will be weak and it may take up too a full month for him to recover from the sickness.” With every word, each boy’s heart sank further and further down. Tear poked at all of their eyes as they listened to the doctor list the pain he was in. No one was really listening until he said, “…and now you lot may see him.” Dr. Sanders held the door open and regarded them with kind eyes.  
The strong stench of sterility hit them all as they gazed around the the stark white room. Finally, their breaths all caught in their throats as their gazes landed on Zayn.  
Zayn lay in a huge hospital bed, which made him look even smaller than he already was. His left foot hung above the bed, wrapped up in a blue cast. His face was pale and his chest shuddered with every breath he took. A whistling noise came from his stuffy nose with every inhale and exhale. Cuts and bruises littered his fragile body.  
“As you can see, Mr. Malik is very ill. He should be waking up soon, and you may speak to him for a bit. But,” he added sternly, “I want no unnecessary stress on him.” Dr. Sanders took his leave after that, and the boys crowded around the bed. Harry ran an oversized hand through Zayn’s soft raven locks of hair. A shiver ran through his body, and he gave a small, weak cough. Harry looked up with tears in his emerald orbs.  
“What if doesn’t get better?” He asked pitifully, and Liam, who had been standing next to him, pulled the younger boy into a hug.  
“He will Harry. We’ll help him, and make it up to him. Don’t worry.” Niall looked up frantically.  
“What if he doesn’t forgive us?! What if he never wakes up?! What if–” He cut off by a pair of chapped lips pressing against his, overriding his senses with the overwhelmingly sweet taste of Louis.  
“It’s gonna be okay, Ni.” Louis soothed. A small, croaky voice interrupted their moment.  
“Don’t talk 'bout me like ’m dead already.” All eyes instantly turned to the bed.  
“Zayn!” Niall shrieked, causing said boy to wince. The Irish lad quickly lowered his voice.  
“Sorry Zee,” he mumbled, cringing internally because he hadn’t even been that loud. They’d really fucked up.  
“S'okay, Nialler,” Zayn whispered, his voice dry and scratchy.  
“Hush, baby. We don’t want you to strain your voice,” Liam chided softly, holding his boyfriend’s hand loosely. Zayn flashed him a weak smile before attempting to sit up. He was gently stopped by two strong pairs of hands.  
“You’re going to strain yourself, Zaynie.” Harry said. Zayn put up a brief struggle before a coughing fit took over. Four pairs of hands were instantaneously carding through his hair, holding his hands, and rubbing calming circle on his back.  
“Breathe, babe.” Louis coaxed, and soon enough, Zayn collapsed exhaustedly on the pillows.  
“’m sorry, lads.” He croaked, surprising them all.  
“What for, Zee?” Liam asked. The sick boy sighed.  
“I caused so much trouble. I should’ve helped more with Haz. I should been more careful. I–” His guilt filled rant was interrupted by four protesting voices.  
“Zayn, that was the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” Louis declared, earning a flick in the ear from Liam. Louis rubbed his ear and looked at the Wolverhampton boy reproachfully.  
“Louis’s right. If anything, we should be the ones apologizing.”

“We should’ve known you were sick. All of us were complete pricks, but you still didn’t call us out on our bullshit. You were still caring for Haz, even when you were ten times more ill.”

“Zayn, you even listened to Louis when he told you to make yourself useful and get medicine. This is our fault, not yours.”

“Zayn, I knew something was off. I should’ve said something. We’re sorry, Zaynie.”

Harry’s final words sticking Zayn’s mind.  
“You were worried 'bout Harreh. I get that. Don’t worry.” Zayn mumbled sleepily, the pain killers kicking in once again. The boys looked at him, aghast.  
“After all that shit we put you through? You still forgive us?” Niall asked incredulously. Zayn yawned before responding.  
“Yeah. I love you boys. I…” He trailed off, eyelids drooping. All of his boyfriends faces instantly softened.  
“Get some sleep, baby. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Liam cooed, pressing a kiss to his temples.  
“And then we’ll help you get better. We’ll make it all up to you.” Louis added.

“Sleep, babe.” Harry murmured.

And Zayn slept


End file.
